Cecil's Tears
Cloud, worn out from carrying Cecil all the way to the inn, let out a long breath and wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
"The Witch? Why on earth would Cecil meet the Witch?"
"The elves and I went into a forest where the Witch was said to appear. Didn't Sofia know?"
"What are you talking about? Our daughter was only supposed to escort them as far as the temple!"
Sofia's voice rose, thick with the heartache and fear of a mother whose precious daughter had been hurt.
Cecil, lying in bed, forced herself to speak. "Cloud, I told you, I'm fine... This is exactly why I asked you not to tell my mother. You have such a loose mouth."
"Quiet. Patients lie still and keep their mouths shut."
While Cloud had been passing the time with the Witch in the forest, Cecil's condition had deteriorated by the hour. By the time he returned after parting ways with Elena, she was slumped against a tree, burning with fever, her consciousness so hazy that she drifted back and forth across the border of death itself.
"First things first — call a doctor, Sofia. I meant to take her straight to one, but I don't know where the hospital is, so I brought her home for now."
It had been exactly five days since they arrived in Valois.
Sofia nodded, her face etched with worry. "All right. I'll go fetch a doctor right now, so please watch over Cecil until I'm back. I'm counting on you!"
She scrambled out the door. Cecil watched her go through half-lidded eyes and murmured weakly, "Cloud... my mother may look carefree, but she's a born worrier... At this rate she might faint on the way."
"You worry about your mother less and mind your own condition for once."
Cloud fetched a basin of water and soaked a towel in it. Pulling a chair up beside the bed, he sat down and dabbed at the sweat streaming down Cecil's forehead. Her feverish body gave off sweat without pause, soaking cloth after cloth.
"Want some water? I can bring you some."
"Not at all..."
"Just in case, don't fall asleep even if you're drowsy. You don't have to talk — just listen to me ramble until the doctor gets here."
"Hey, Cloud..."
"Yeah?"
"I'm drenched in sweat and I feel all sticky and clammy. It's miserable... Sorry, but could you help me out of these clothes?"
"Sure."
He rose, undid her belt, and eased her out of her sweat-soaked tunic and tights, folding each piece neatly onto the table before tucking the blanket snugly around her. Then he dumped out the lukewarm basin water, refilled it with cold, and soaked the cloth again.
Sensing Cloud settling back into his chair, Cecil opened eyes she had kept closed and spoke in a feeble voice. "Just between you and me, Cloud... I'm holding back the feeling that I'm so exhausted I might actually die."
"I know. Hang on a little longer. Once the doctor comes, he'll have you right as rain."
Cloud wrung the cloth out over the basin, then took Cecil's limp arm in hand and gently wiped the sweat from it, working from her shoulder down, then her neck and her face — patiently, tenderly, all with the simple aim of cooling her fever and keeping her clean.
The cool cloth met her burning skin, and Cecil's lips curved into a faint, relieved smile.
"Are the elves all right?"
"Yeah. Everyone made it back to their village alive, they said."
Cloud lied, if only to ease the worry of the girl before him.
"Really?"
Cecil asked again, unable quite to believe it. She could still remember the terror of facing the Witch — how she hadn't even been able to breathe.
"You're not lying to me, are you?"
"I'm not. Ask the elves yourself when they come calling. See if it's true or not."
"Thank goodness. I'm so glad everyone's safe. Then... did the Witch die?"
"No. She got away."
"The elves really are something. I suppose the world is full of remarkable people."
Cecil bit her lip.
"Do you have any idea how hard I trained, all this time, just to protect my mother? I thought I could finally do my part. But the moment I met the Witch I couldn't even fight — I got scared and ran with my tail between my legs... Practice and the real thing are nothing alike. One brush with that thing and I couldn't resist, couldn't do anything but fall ill... It's infuriating, you know?"
"These things happen. Be thankful you're alive."
Because every elf who actually fought the Witch is dead, Cloud did not add.
"Which makes my record one win, one loss. I did lose to the Witch, after all."
"And who exactly did you beat to earn that win?"
"You, Cloud. I beat you in that hallway, remember?"
"Wonderful. So I go down in history as the man who lost a fight to a teenage girl. What an embarrassing page of my life."
"Your record stands at zero wins, one loss, Cloud."
Cecil giggled, feeble as the sound was.
Cloud turned his eyes to the basin and said, wringing out the towel. "From now on, don't do anything dangerous without telling your mother. If you get hurt, she'll worry herself sick."
"Why do you sound exactly like every adult in the world?"
"Because I'm an adult too."
"You don't feel like one, Cloud. You feel like a friend. That's why I like you."
Cloud chuckled. "That's because I'm immature."
"Then I'm immature too?"
"You think you're mature, when you're young and barely know the world?"
Cecil nodded. "I don't remember exactly when it started, but... more or less, I was six."
Her gaze settled on the ceiling as she began. "That's when I started understanding things — what the world was, what family meant — and when I began calling Sofia 'Mother.' Back then she'd only just become a widow, and she had no family but me. We lived in a little house that leaked rain on rainy days, and she raised me on the thin wages of a restaurant helper."
Cecil sank into the memory of those hard years. "People always looked at us sideways. Why would a woman so young take on somebody else's child and suffer for it, they wondered. But Sofia seemed happy. She'd come home dead tired from work, and still she'd always find a smile for me. She cooked me delicious things, too."
Her eyes, fixed on the ceiling, were soft and warm — the eyes of a daughter who had grown up loved beneath a caring parent.
"Sofia threw away her chance to start over with another man and sacrificed everything she had to raise me. I understood what that cost her, so the moment I turned eight I started running errands and doing odd jobs to save up. People called me commendable, said I was mature beyond my years. I secretly agreed. It was hard, all of it — but I had my mother, and that was why I could keep going. Her savings and my earnings, every coin pinched and hoarded, and at last, two years ago, we built this inn. Things kept getting better after that... With a fine house over our heads, I figured the only thing left was to come of age quickly and become Mother's dependable guardian. She's protected me all this time — now it's my turn to protect her. And yet..."
Cecil looked up at Cloud, eyes brimming. "Hey, Cloud."
"Yeah?"
"Am I going to die...?"
Tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks as she gazed up at him. At the sight, Cloud felt his own eyes grow hot; he looked away and pressed his thumb and forefinger hard against the bridge of his nose.
"Don't say such idiotic things. Why would you die?"
"But if — if I die... who's going to protect my mother...?"
Cecil's voice broke into sobs. "Who's going to protect our poor mother then! Sob... hic... waaah!"
At last the feelings she had been holding back burst their banks, and she wept openly, face buried in the blanket, crying at the top of her lungs like the child she was.
"..."
For a long while, Cloud said nothing. He only kept his gaze lowered, his expression a tangle of things unsaid.
Just as Cecil's sobs finally began to quiet, the door burst open.
"Cecil!"
Sofia had returned with the doctor.